The rest of the team assembled near Taven. Ferah was the last to join them, still the newbie when it came to suiting up. He saw in Mack’s eyes the immature jokes that weren’t being said. Taven rolled his eyes dismissively.

  “All ready, Boss,” Ferah said, standing two steps away.

  Her appearance caught Taven off-guard. The softness of her tan face, her supple lips. He resisted spending time with Ferah for this very reason. He was not immune to the fever from which every other man aboard the St. George suffered. She, for just a moment, was an oasis, a promise of life in this dark desert.

  He pushed the emotions down and even thought hateful, judgmental thoughts to replace them. Things he knew were not true: she was an idiot, a rich kid right out of med school, and she had probably slept with most of the crew by now. They were all lies, but they helped Taven squash the equally untruthful impulse that told him she was what—not who—he wanted.

  “Let’s get this done,” Taven said. “We’ll be wasting time meandering aimlessly around a ship this big. We need to find some sort of computer interface and take a look under the hood.”

  Everyone seemed to be in agreement, but they still waited for Taven to make the first move. He spotted a door, presumably an entrance and headed toward it.

  The plinks and clacks echoed in the empty gymnasium of a hangar bay as their metallic boots clopped noisily. As Taven reached the doorway, it sensed him and opened automatically. He couldn’t help but picture a morbid trap, a sideways guillotine that promised to chop him in half as soon as he stepped forward.

  He suppressed his irrational fear and walked into a long hallway that gave no clues, no writing, no indication of which way to head. Both directions seemed to T-bone with perpendicular hallways.

  After the others had filed in behind him, Taven spoke. “Suggestions?”

  “Hello!” shouted Mack. “Anybody home?”

  “I’m pretty sure that if they didn’t hear the asteroid slam into them, they probably won’t hear you yelling,” Ferah said.

  Mack ignored her. “My nose says that way,” he said. Then he began walking down one hallway before Taven could give any kind of go-ahead.

  When they reached the hallway intersection, Taven looked right and left. Both directions looked like mirror images—long tunnels with alternating doors on both sides.

  The crew studied their options until Ferah spoke up. “There. That’s different.” She pointed to a door-sized structure that didn’t exist in the other direction.

  They headed toward it, and Taven felt unease. They were descending further into the labyrinth without leaving breadcrumbs, some way of finding their way back.

  Up close, the structure appeared to be some kind of computer console, though it didn’t look like anything Taven had seen before. It wasn’t Meyer Corp tech, and Taven wondered if it had even been made this century.

  “Think you can work it?” he asked Stevens.

  “I’ll try,” the young man said. He placed his hands on the machine, and instantly the computer came to life.

  “Welcome to the Hudson interface system. State your intent,” said a digital voice.

  Stevens looked back at Taven. “Didn’t think it would be that easy,” he shrugged.

  Taven gave him a nod to proceed. The young man spoke to the computer. “Show me ship schematics.”

  “Do you wish to view mechanical blueprints or an internal diagram?” asked the computer.

  “Show me the map,” Taven spoke.

  “Mapping the Hudson,” the voiced complied. The wall console that had appeared opaque suddenly turned luminous. At the top, the profile of the entire ship appeared with visible slices like an apple stack cake. Each layer had lines drawn to one side with a node at the end, ostensibly to expand each level with more detail.

  “Computer,” Mack said, “Show us our level.” Taven again wished Mack would let him do the talking, but it was the same command he would have asked for. That was the problem with Mack; either you let him run free with all the good and bad, or, if you tried to control him, you hampered his entire personality, making him a totally useless second-in-command.

  The computer popped up a local area map with a blinking light, showing their current location. “There’s the hangar,” Ferah said, pointing to a large room that took up half the level’s area.

  “What are in these rooms?” Taven asked, pointing to the numerous identically sized rectangles.

  Stevens touched the map and it zoomed in on one of the rooms. “No description,” he said.

  “Check another,” Taven said.

  Stevens did, and it too had no description.

  “Check another level,” Mack suggested.

  Stevens eyed Taven for permission, and Taven nodded. The next level down was very similar except it had no hangar bay. But it did have the rooms. They zoomed in on several, but none had descriptions.

  “That’s weird,” Ferah said. “Why would they all be the same size?”

  “Passenger accommodations?” Mack offered.

  “How big are they?” Taven asked Stevens. Stevens proceeded to ask the computer how big the currently selected room was, which was something Taven felt silly for not doing himself.

  “Area of selected room is twenty thousand square feet,” answered the computer.

  “That’s way too big for lodging,” Mack said. “Even those big pleasure cruisers don’t have rooms that big.”

  Taven knew Mack was right. He was starting to silently panic. Nothing was making sense, and he felt the urge to get out of there. He went passive, letting the other three make decisions while he tried to fight through his fear.

  “Check another level,” Mack said. Stevens did. The ship appeared to be full of these same sized rooms and seemingly nothing else.

  “Computer,” Ferah said, “show me navigation room.”

  “No such room exists,” said the computer.

  “Show me engineering,” Mack demanded.

  “No such room exists.”

  “Show communications,” Ferah said.

  “No such room exists.”

  The team collectively groaned in frustration. “How did this ship even get out here?” Mack said rhetorically.

  “The Hudson Colony traveled to the outer Belt one hundred sixty-three years ago with the stated mission of living intentional, nonviolent lives.”

  “Oh, great,” Mack muttered. It’s a cult ship. That explains everything.”

  “And the age explains the lack of the welcoming party,” Ferah agreed.

  “Yeah, they probably abandoned ship a century ago after they reached wherever they were headed,” Stevens said. “Maybe a larger space station?”

  “Who knows how crazy they were?” Mack said. “If they came out here for any reason besides making money, they were complete nut-jobs.”

  They seemed cheerful, and the hope that no one was aboard and that this would soon be over gave Taven courage. “Alright, let’s check out a couple rooms just to be certain everyone’s gone. Then we’ll go home.”

  CHAPTER 4

  SINCE THEY KNEW all the rooms were identical, Taven felt no apprehension picking one at random to check out. Leaving the wall console, he walked to the nearest door in the hallway. As he neared it, the door opened. He didn’t have the same guillotine fear as he had leaving the hangar, but what awaited him would be no less surprising as a swinging blade.

  Taven stopped a single step inside the room, and the other three piled up behind him.

  “What the blazes!” Mack said.

  In long rows were coffin sized glass containers, each visibly containing a body. Taven moved to the nearest one.

  “Are they alive?” he asked.

  Ferah knelt down beside the transparent pod and examined the body. “I can’t see them breathing,” she said. “But they don’t look dead.”

  She was right. The woman’s body under glass looked the picture of health, perhaps in her mid-thirties with a clear complexion.

  “Cryogenics?” Mack questioned.

  Ferah removed her glove and put her hand on the glass. “It’s not cold, not any more than the rest of the ship, anyway.”

  Mack walked down the center aisle, examining both rows of bodies. “They are all alike,” he said. “And they all look fine. Clones?”

  “No, look closer,” Taven said. “They’re not identical.” Then he turned to Stevens. “Go back to the wall console and see what you can figure out about these pods.”

  Stevens, appearing glad to leave the room full of not-quite-dead bodies, hurried out the door.

  Taven looked to Ferah for insights, and when she looked back, he had another flash of feeling. In disgust at his own animal instincts that were stupid enough to emerge at a time like this, he twisted off his helmet and put it on the deck. After breathing deeply, he was satisfied with the oxygen mix and began the arduous task of removing his space suit.

  Mack and Ferah followed suit. Having had years of practice and a head start, Taven and Mack finished disrobing before Ferah. As she shook off the last of her suit, Taven saw Mack’s facial expressions, and knew exactly what kinds of dumb, juvenile thoughts were going through his mind.

  So much for the lingerie, Taven wanted to say to Mack but didn’t. Ferah wore the same conventional garb as everyone else, red elastic two-piece material that resembled exercise clothing or long underwear. Still, Taven noticed she could make anything look good, all without trying.

  “What now?” Ferah asked.

  “If they aren’t dead,” Taven said meekly, “then we need to wake one up. If we open them up and they’re dead, then we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Assuming they are alive, how do we know they want to be awakened?” Ferah asked.

  “Yeah,” Mack chimed in, “what if they are loonies who swore some kind of oath to their leader, and they want to sleep for all eternity?”

  “We hit their ship,” Taven said. “Until we know more about them or Stevens figures more out from the computer, it’s our duty to tell them what happened and offer them assistance. Plus, I don’t want anyone saying I didn’t go the distance when we get back home. The last thing I want to deal with on furlough is a bunch of trumped-up charges that might just stick.”

  “Alright,” Ferah said, appearing to recognize she was up now, that it was her turn to take the reins. She laid her large medicase on its side, actuated its magnetic cleats so it attached to the deck, and opened it, revealing more medical gear and medicine than Taven would have imagined could fit in a bag that size. The gear and meds spilled out, promising never to fit back inside.

  Ferah scanned her equipment for a second as if she were confirming that everything she expected to be there really was there. Then she started searching the glass coffin with her hands along its seams. “There has to be a release on this thing somewhere,” she said.

  Taven and Mack both stood at arm’s length, bent at the waist, trying to act as spotters.

  “There, that must be it,” she said, her hand at the head of the pod. “Everyone ready?” she asked, checking faces.

  Everyone nodded, and Ferah flipped the unseen switch. There was a quick hiss of gas, and Taven flinched. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t that.

  Then, seemingly automated systems kicked in. An electronic motor hummed, and the glass lid began to separate down its middle along a seam that had until then been unnoticeable. After the glass broke into two pieces, it slid down along either side of the body and disappeared underneath the pod.

  The three of them stood back, pensively awaiting further changes, but nothing more happened.

  “Is she alive?” Mack asked.

  “Guess I’ll do this the old-fashioned way,” Ferah said as she grabbed a stethoscope from her gear. She put it in her ears and slowly placed the other end on the sleeper’s chest.

  At the point of contact, Taven felt himself shudder. Maybe he thought there would be a reaction from the body, but there wasn’t.

  After Ferah listened for longer than Taven expected, she snapped back and pulled off her stethoscope. Then she stared off away from Taven and Mack, keeping a scowl on her face.

  “Well?” Taven asked.

  Her eyes shifted to his, but her scowl remained and Taven for the first time thought he had glimpsed Ferah’s ire.

  “She’s alive,” Ferah said, “but I don’t know how.” She quickly grabbed a small device from her bag and held it up to the woman’s head.

  They waited for an explanation, but none came.

  “Okay, out with it,” Mack demanded. “We don’t have all day.”

  “She has a heartbeat, but it’s too slow. I mean, maybe if she was hypothermic or something, it would make sense. But—assuming they are all like her—I don’t know what’s keeping them alive.”

  “I’ll help you with the hard ones, sweetheart,” Mack chided. “It’s these blasted cables hooked up to her. She’s half machine.”

  “I realize that,” Ferah responded, her scowl back in full force. “They are obviously on some sort of long-term life support. It’s just that I’ve never seen a patient in a drug or neuronal induced coma with such weak vitals. She shouldn’t be getting enough oxygen to her brain, not with her heart rate that low. But her brain activity is off the charts. It’s like she’s in a heightened form of REM sleep.”

  Taven looked at their subject; she looked peaceful, and he had the momentary thought that she might be better off than he was. The number of cords and cables that filled the empty spaces of her pod were deceiving at first glance. They looked like they might be hooked into her all over her body. But, in fact, there were only two that entered her body directly, one in her mouth, another in her nose. The rest—there were dozens—were attached to what looked like a swimmer’s cap on her head.

  “I’m guessing those two are a feeding tube and oxygen,” Taven offered.

  “Most likely,” Ferah said. “But I don’t see a catheter, so…”

  “So, what are we waiting for?” Mack demanded. “Can you wake her up?”

  Ferah didn’t answer but continued checking her patient. Her touch, albeit a gentle one, pushed the woman’s weightless body down against the bottom of the pod, and the coils of wires beneath acted like a spring and pushed her back toward Ferah who didn’t seem to notice or mind.

  “Her heart rate isn’t changing. She’s still in stasis despite opening the pod,” Ferah said. “Over here,” she pointed to a small set of buttons outside the pod, “is where the induction process is initiated. The symbols are pretty self-explanatory. But I don’t see anything about regression, nothing about taking her out.”

  “Then let’s rip out her tubes,” Mack said.

  Both Taven and Ferah eyed Mack with contempt. His base, crude suggestions always seemed reprehensible at first, but then strangely the only obvious choice to be made.

  “He’s right,” Ferah finally said. “We have to disconnect her to bring her out of sleep.”

  “Any negative consequences?” Taven asked.

  “There’s no way of knowing,” she said. “I’ll monitor her, but I’d say we should start by taking off her neural cap. That should disrupt that part of it, then we’ll see how she responds.”

  “Okay, do it,” Taven said quickly, as if he might lose his courage if he waited longer.

  Ferah gently reached up to the woman’s head and began peeling back the rubber-like cap. It made a sucking sound as it clung to the woman’s skin. After Ferah removed it, Taven was surprised to see that the woman’s head was shaved. It was still smooth as if she’d gone under yesterday.

  “There, that ought to do it,” Ferah said as she moved the cap to one side. Then she resumed monitoring her patient’s heart rate. “It’s coming up,” she said moments later. “Her heart rate’s rising.”

  “Hey, anyone have a pen?” Mack asked. “Maybe we could draw a mustache on her before she wakes.”

  Before anyone could chastise Mack for his inappropriate comment, the woman sat up, or, at least, she tried. The lack of gravity meant she didn’t have much to push against, so her body went cattiwonkis and began spinning to one side.

  Everyone jumped, but Ferah recovered quickly and tried to assist the patient. She put her hands on the woman, stabilizing her so she wouldn’t spin.

  “It’s okay. You’re okay,” Ferah said gently.

  The woman stayed rigid, her eyes wide open, but she didn’t talk.

  “You’re on the Hudson. You’ve been asleep for a long time. We’re here to help,” Ferah said.

  “Maybe she’s brain-dead,” Mack said.

  “Shut up,” Taven said. “How is she? I mean, under the hood—what’s going on?” he asked.

  Ferah shifted to her medic bag and brought up an instrument that Taven didn’t recognize. It was rectangular with a handle. Ferah raised it to her patient’s head and began moving it slowly from one hemisphere to the other. Then she pulled it down and stared at its screen.

  “She’s not totally with us yet,” Ferah stated.

  “I could have told you that,” Mack said.

  “But she’s coming back,” she said, “I think.”

  Ferah checked her heart rate again. Satisfied, she raised a hand with a pen light and shined it in the woman’s eyes. Then she waved her hand before her eyes. She turned to the others. “Retinas are reacting but that’s about the only reflex.”

  Just then, the woman reached out and grabbed Ferah by the wrist. She continued staring straight ahead but then tried to speak.

  “What’d she say?” Mack asked.

  “I’m removing the feeding tube,” Ferah said.

  But before she could, the woman grabbed it with both hands and yanked hard. As the end of the feeding tube exited her mouth, she coughed and gagged before saying, “You woke me.” Slowly, she shifted her eyes toward Ferah and repeated, “You woke me.”